


The beginning of a beautiful friendship

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), True Blood (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-29 20:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Eric Northman is bored, but when a new vamp walks into his bar things get more interesting.





	The beginning of a beautiful friendship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whichclothes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/gifts).



> This is for whichclothes who asked: The world needs more Spike/Eric Northman. Would you pretty please write some? Maybe something with some spanking involved, just because?
> 
> Well, I didn't get much spanking or actual, er...  
> look, just read it. It may be a wee bit crack-tastic.

Eric Northman was tolerating his tedious shift at Fangtasia, but just barely. The sycophants were all the same and it took no effort to amaze them, leaving his mind to brood over Sookie and what she wouldn’t tell him about his time under that witch’s spell. He knew something important had happened when he was without his memory. Something, at least, interesting. Unlike sitting in his bar, waiting for the shift to end. He tried to concentrate on how much more income they received on days when he worked the floor.  
  
“Well isn’t this trite?” A loud voice broke through the carefully cultivated mood like a scratch on a record.  
  
Ah, the slightly less-frequent but no less tedious fan who pretends to disdain. Eric sighed.  
  
But when the neon-white haired figure swaggered up to the bar, still complaining about the décor, the waitress’ uniforms, and the clientele, Eric noted something unexpected – his lack of heartbeat.  
  
“Give me a pint of O neg, love,” the stranger said, leaning one elbow on the bar. “Let’s see if you can bollocks that up and then get me a whiskey.” He leered playfully at a woman near him. “Aren’t you a tasty morsel?” She blushed and giggled. He pulled close and in a deep whisper, said, “If you were a gazelle, would you hang out in the bloody lion’s cage at the zoo?”  
  
He kept his smile as the girl backed away, looking annoyed and a little afraid.  
  
Eric touched his shoulder. He turned quickly, alert for a fight.  
  
“I do not know you,” Eric said.  
  
“Now that’s shocking, considering I would normally not be caught undead in this place.” He spoke casually, his head tipped back in a smirk, but his hands were lifted slightly at his sides, ready for sudden action.  
  
“I am Eric. This is my place.”  
  
“Spike,” said the stranger, offhandedly. Though something in the way he lifted his chin made it seem he expected the name to be recognized. Or perhaps it was a challenge.  
  
Eric smiled. A fight would be very diverting. “Are you attempting to scare away my paying customers?”  
  
Spikes stance shifted slightly to be even more fight-ready. “Lots of murders around here lately. Maybe I just want to make sure everyone’s safe.”  
  
Eric narrowed his eyes slightly in amused curiosity. “You are unlike any vampire I have met.”  
  
“Because I’m not an affect-less berk who appears to have lost any sense of fun?”  
  
“Yes, I suppose that’s it.”  
  
Spike blinked in confusion, obviously not expecting that response. His blood had arrived, and he picked it up, muttering “Berk,” into it before drinking.  
  
Eric studied him. “I would think you were newly turned, but for your outdated dress.”  
  
“This look is classic.” Spike gave him a level, challenging look. “And your blood really tastes shit.”  
  
“Artificial blood is a regrettable consequence of mainstream life.”  
  
“Is that what it is? Bloody awful.” Spike squinted at the bottle label.  
  
“You haven’t heard of TruBlood? Have you been away from civilization?”  
  
Spike gave Eric an insulting look for a long second, then cleared his throat. “Look. Just tell me that what with the fake blood and all, all the little kiddies are safe.”  
  
“I can’t speak for every vampire in my territory. Where can you possibly be from?”  
  
“England,” Spike said, and rolled his eyes, implying this should have been obvious.  
  
“I sailed with Swein into Aethelred’s lands. We found the English… accommodating.”  
  
“Oh. That’s… nice. Makes you, wot, one thousand and change?”  
  
“The English did not speak then as you do now.”  
  
Spike slammed down his bottle and straightened to his full height, which wasn’t that impressive. “Look, lutefisk-breath, you might have been the big bad in the 900s, but these days all your lot dominate is the wood-frame furnishings industry. And anyway, Edmund kicked your arses!”  
  
Eric’s eyes flashed with a delight of far-forgotten memory and a bloodlust that had little to do with drinking blood. “You are challenging me to a fight? In my own domain?” Eric’s grin gaped open, fangs peeking out. “I’ll win.”  
  
“Don’t bet on it, Hagar.”   
  
Pam, who had been running the souvenir counter, caught sense of the tension and moved calmly to stand behind Spike. Without turning around, Spike pointed at her. “And I saw that.”  
  
Eric raised a hand to ward Pam off. “I like you. You aren’t boring. Follow me to the parking lot.”  
  
“Oh, right. Because we wouldn’t want the poncy décor damaged.” Spike rolled his eyes. But he did follow past the bar and out the employee’s entrance at the back of the bar.  
  
In the well-lit back lot, Spike adjusted the lay of his leather coat. “So,” he said, “loser agrees his home country is a poncy, ice-fishing backwater.”  
  
Eric regretted that this diversion would be over soon. This Spike could not be more than a few decades old. He decided to throw a slow punch to start, just to be fair.  
  
Eric found himself on the ground. He blinked, puzzled by the strange sensation of the wind being knocked out of him.  
  
Spike stood over him, flexing his fists. “Come on, Fabio. I haven’t got all bloody night. Kiddies to rescue, murders to solve. That kind of thing.”  
  
Eric rose with his full power and speed. Spike looked up at him as he hovered a moment. “Oh. Bugger.” Spike said.  
  
And then the fight was begun in earnest.  
  
Fists and feet connected and blocked, a whirl of high-speed choreography. Eric was again sure of himself, though the fight was taking longer than expected, he was definitely the stronger and faster of the two.  
  
Spike grabbed a handful of Eric’s shirt collar and jerked him down to earth. “Keep smiling, Hagar. I’m not here to play.”  
  
“But you are. I find this most puzzling.” Eric tried to twist out of Spike’s hold and was quickly countered. He frowned thoughtfully. “You are irritatingly skilled.” Spike smiled through the strain as he held his opponent locked.  
  
Eric then took hold of Spike’s arm, and without any artistry simply pulled him toward the ground until he stumbled, unable to maintain his hold. “But I am still stronger.”  
  
Spike snarled and kicked Eric’s feet out from under him. Eric let go to evade falling, and then Spike threw himself at him.  
  
They rolled over pavement littered with broken glass and cigarette ash, ending up nearly under a pick-up truck at one point. In consideration to his patrons, Eric did not fling the vehicle out of the way, but he got a rubber boot-heel in the face for his trouble.  
  
Finally, Eric found himself on his back again, looking up at the panting, sweating face of the younger vampire. “You won’t give up, will you?”  
  
“Ladies first,” Spike snarled.  
  
Eric laughed. “Very well. I surrender. What will you do with me?”  
  
The look of shock was priceless. It got even more delicious as Eric rose from the ground, carrying Spike with him. This occasioned quite a press between their bodies, and Eric didn’t mind that in the least.  
  
Spike had one fist raised, but his shoulders were lowered, his face a lovely mixture of puzzlement and curiosity.  
  
Eric licked his fangs. “Are you always this entertaining?”  
  
Spike shoved himself back from the near-embrace. “No. Sometimes I’m a downright pain in the arse.”  
  
“I think you should join my house,” Eric said. “I can use the distraction, and perhaps you would last longer than our past bartenders.”  
  
Spike pointed at the ground. “This isn’t a date. I came here to investigate murders.”  
  
“Our bartenders have a habit of dying.” Eric smiled. “And you called me ‘Fabio’. Do not look so concerned, you aren’t alone in finding me attractive.” Spike shook his head and huffed, looking like he was going to argue, but then his eyes caught on Eric’s hand as he casually flicked aside a piece of torn shirt. “Come, I should change. Pam dislikes it when I am ‘scruffy’ in front of the customers.”  
  
Spike blinked, mouth a little slack, and then shrugged. “Just what I need. Another leather-pants-wearing vampire who thinks he's god's gift."  
  
“Come. We shall talk more. Perhaps I can even help in your ‘investigation’.”  
  
Spike gave him a sidelong, unsure glance. “Catch more flies with honey, I suppose,” he said as Eric set a (only slightly) proprietary hand on his shoulder.  
  
Pam was watching the back door intently when they walked back into the bar, but she saw Eric slide his hand down Spike’s back and a wicked grin broke across her face.  
  
Yes, Eric thought, life was about to get a lot less dull.  
  
  
END


End file.
